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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753631">Prisoner of Time (Darkiplier X Reader)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosequartzwriting/pseuds/rosequartzwriting'>rosequartzwriting</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Darkiplier - Fandom, Unus Annus - Fandom, Who Killed Markiplier? (Web Series), markiplier - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Heavy Lore, Memento mori, Slow Burn, Unus Annus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 21:02:07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27753631</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosequartzwriting/pseuds/rosequartzwriting</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You always wake up in this manor, living with it’s master, being treated like a queen. But you do not remember what came before, or what is outside the grounds. There is something not right. Something is not right about Mark. Things are so wrong, yet so right.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Darkiplier x Reader, Darkiplier/Reader, Markiplier x Reader - Relationship, Markiplier/Reader, Markiplier/You, darkiplier/you</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Tale As Old As Time</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Planning this was a blast, enjoy / Series inspired by Who Killed Markiplier? / This story depicts the character of Markiplier, NOT THE REAL MARK, all figures are characters.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Chapter 1: Tale As Old As Time</p><p>“Just a little change, small to say the least, both a little scared, neither one prepared” <br/>- Tale as Old as Time</p><p>~~~</p><p>You woke up to sunshine. The soft knocking brought you to slowly wake up, with cracks of light coming from in between the curtains. Plush covers and silk pillowcases surrounded you when your eyes fluttered open. A familiar face was poking in from the door to inside your quarters. As your vision cleared and your mind now aware of being awake, the face was more recognizable to the point where you could put a name to it.</p><p>“Good morning, Lady (Y/N).” Ethan, the butler, said with that gentle smile of his. He carried a silver tray with a mug and a tea pot. He was wearing his dress shirt, vest, dress pants, and a bow tie. “This morning’s tea, oolong with a hint of honey and hibiscus.” The young man set down the tray on top of a table and began to pour the steaming liquid into the clear-glass mug.</p><p>“Good morning. Thank you, Ethan.” You said, now sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. You had stayed up late the night before, finishing the book you had picked up. That book was on your nightstand beside the stubs left behind from your candlesticks.</p><p>“Master Mark has requested breakfast be served outside this morning. It is a lovely day out.” Ethan walked over and pulled the velvet curtains open. More light flooded the room, causing you to squint. There were few fluffy clouds among the beautifully blue sky. Ethan opened the latch and pushed the window open, letting in fresh air. “The Master also requested you be up to see him early, his workload for the day calls for him to start early.”</p><p>You stretched out your limbs. The bed was so warm and soft and comfortable that you did not want to get out. But the scent of that tea had already wandered over to you. Sweet and flowery. The silk pajamas that you were wearing let in the slight morning chill, so you reach for your nearby robe to cover you.</p><p>“I’ll let you get dressed. Come out when you’re ready. Chef prepared Belgium waffles today. We know how much you love them.” With that, Ethan left with a smile and closed the door behind him.</p><p>And you loved Chef’s waffles indeed. The thought of them, hot out of the waffle press, gave you the motivation to crawl out of your bed and trudge over to your dresser. Your feet hit the cold hardwood, but that did not stop you from wanting your morning tea.</p><p>It was still hot, so you blew on the surface and brought it to your lips. The tea was heavenly, the honey and hibiscus coming through right away. The temptation for more was strong, but you held back so you would not burn yourself. </p><p>While waiting for it to cool, you decided to get dressed. Picking out a comfortable outfit, you slipped it on. All the clothes in your closet and your dresser were gorgeous. And expensive. All the material felt lush and strong, high quality. </p><p>Even your jewelry and makeup, gems and products that felt lavish. You decided to throw on a necklace and put on a little makeup. After getting ready in the bathroom and fixing your hair, you went back to your tea.</p><p>The warm mug in your hands made you smile. You had to be downstairs and outside soon, but you spent a minute or two just enjoying the scent and the taste of your tea. If you had not requested something the night before, every morning Ethan brought you something new. You loved it. And you were defiantly requesting this one again soon.</p><p>You finally decided to head downstairs. After pouring some more tea into your cup, you left your bedroom and walked down the long hall. Your feet connected to beautifully patterned rugs. You passed detailed oil paintings and curtains of thick velvet, large doors of the other rooms, and you found the top of the main staircase. </p><p>Each step down was familiar, having taken this grand staircase many times. You tried not to spill your tea. When you reached the bottom you took another sip of it. You crossed the foyer and made it through another hallway, past more paintings and vases of flowers and even sculptures. </p><p>You made your way outside, the sun warm on your face as you looked out while walking on the concrete path. The grounds were surrounded by full trees and flowers, mountains in the distance poking over the treetops. There was a picnic table by the rose garden where outside meals were often served, so you made your way over there. You passed tall lampposts and stone benches on balconies. </p><p>Sure enough Mark was already seated near the rose garden, a cup of what you knew was coffee in his hands as he watched something wrestle in a tree. He was wearing a blazer and dress pants, as he commonly did. Upon hearing your footsteps, he turned around to face you. The smile on his face was warm.</p><p>“Good morning, (Y/N)!”</p><p>You smiled back at him, “Good morning, Mark.”</p><p>“It’s such a gorgeous day today, I thought we’d have breakfast under the sun.” He took another swig of his coffee. </p><p>“Good idea,” You replied, taking the seat directly across from him. “I spent all day inside yesterday.”</p><p>Mark’s eyebrow quirked up as he smirked, “I was told. Cooped up in the library again?”</p><p>You nodded, “Yea, did not want to put a book down.”</p><p>“Sure sounds like you.” Mark went to stab a chunk of his waffle from his plate. “You need some air, spend some time outside today. Alright?”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” You grinned at him. You looked at the little spread on the table.</p><p>Waffles were stacked on a plate beside a vase of fresh cut white roses. Your mouth watered, everything looked delicious. The fresh fruits on a separate plater: strawberries, kiwis, blue berries, blackberries, and peach slices. Little pots of sticky syrup and thick whipped cream. </p><p>Everything you could want.</p><p>You stacked up a few on your plate and added what you wanted. They were fresh and warm, making you hum at the first bite. The combination of the sweet waffles and your tea made your morning.</p><p>Mark gestured over your shoulder with his fork after swallowing, “I was watching that pair of chickadees chasing each other in the tree.” There was a spot of whipped cream on his lip. You tried not to stare as he licked it off. </p><p>You looked over and saw the little birds dancing around in the leaves before they flew off. “They’re beautiful birds. I should paint them.” </p><p>“That’s a lovely idea. However they don’t exactly sit still.”</p><p>You laughed at that, “I can maybe find a reference in the library. I’m almost out of black and white for my oil paints though.”</p><p>“Why didn’t you say so? I can pick you some up next time I’m out of the manor.”</p><p>While Mark talked he poked at his waffles. You noticed he did not eat much, at least from what you have seen. Quick breakfasts and small dinner portions whenever you had a meal with him. You had never seen him finish an entire plate of anything. </p><p>The only thing he seemed attached to was coffee. Every time before eleven am Mark always seemed to have a coffee mug in his hands.</p><p>After you thanked him, you both fell into a comfortable silence while you ate your breakfast. The two of you just listened to what was around you. Birds chirped in the distance and the cool wind brushed against the trees.</p><p>Mark looked like he was lost in a daydream, blinking between the vase of roses and his waffle plate.</p><p>“You okay, Mark?”</p><p>His eyes darted up to meet yours, “Hm? Oh, yes everything is alright.” His face scrunched up in thought, “It’s just.” He reached out, then pulled back. “I feel like-” Reached out again, this time landing on one of the roses in the vase. Picking it out, he snapped the head of the flower off the stem, leaving a small part of it attached, and fluffed out the petals. Then Mark leaned over the table and tucked the end of it behind your right ear.</p><p>You completely froze. The feeling of his fingers brushing against your ear and your hair, accidentally grazing your cheek as he pulled away. It prevented you from moving.</p><p>“There.” His voice was soft, “I felt like one of those belonged right there.”</p><p>The gesture made you blush, and the tone of his voice did not help at all.</p><p>“Thank you,” It came out almost as a whisper. </p><p>He gave you another warm smile. It made you weak. </p><p>You cleared your throat, “You should finish more of your waffle before you head off to your study.”</p><p>He shrugged, “I’m not too hungry right now.”</p><p>You nodded your head towards his waffle, “One more bite.”</p><p>“Only if you finish the rest of yours.” He took another bite.</p><p>You were happy to finish yours, as well as poking at a few of the fruits that were left on the platter.</p><p>Mark stood up, “Well, I should get going. I’ll come find you after my work.”</p><p>“Alright. Have a good day Mark.”</p><p>“To you as well, (Y/N).” He bowed his head with a smirk on his face before he made his way back to into the manor.</p><p>Just like that he was gone. He often disappears like that, into his study for most of the day. But you knew he would be there for dinner and you could see him again later today.</p><p>Mark was an interesting person. Always something to talk about. Always observing the things around him. Diving into deep discussions with you. Telling you stories. All while smiling that big smile and laughing out that beautiful laugh. He was also incredibly sweet and caring, making sure you were comfortable in his home. </p><p>You always looked forward to spending time with the owner of this huge mansion. </p><p>But you had the day ahead of you, so you contemplated what you wanted to do for the day. The idea of a book by the poolside was wonderful. </p><p>Ethan came outside to gather the dishes off the picnic table. “The Master has plenty on his plate today. I could say the same for his breakfast.”</p><p>“Yeah he did not eat much, again.” You stabbed the last fruit on your plate and popped it in your mouth. </p><p>“I see.” Ethan took your empty plate from you. “What are your plans for the day, Lady (Y/N)?”</p><p>“Thinking about reading by the pool today.”</p><p>“Excellent. Actually I just finished a book you might enjoy. I can bring it to you in a bit.”</p><p>“That would be awesome.” As he turned to leave, you stopped him. “Oh and Ethan? Could you make more of that oolong tea from this morning with my lunch today? I loved it.”</p><p>“Of course.” With a bow, Ethan headed back inside.</p><p>~~~</p><p>You went back to your quarters to change into a swimsuit. Bringing a pair of sunglasses, a lace coverup, a towel, and the rose Mark had given you, you went back outside. The pool was right in the sunshine, so you sat in one of the poolside chairs and cracked open the book Ethan handed you in the hallway.</p><p>The book was capturing. It was a fairytale filled with magic and love. There was a beauty. There was also a beast. And a castle filled with adorable friends. Took you on a nice adventure, and you wondered why you had not found this one in the library yet. That was probably due to the shelves upon shelves of books in there. Titles upon titles. Genres of fiction and non-fiction for your brain to consume.</p><p>Life was a paradise with all those books you could read, in this beautiful manor. </p><p>Pretty soon, you lost track of time and the afternoon rolled around. Ethan came outside with a tray. He was wearing a simple polo shirt and swim shorts, on his break and deciding to join you by the pool side. You did not mind at all. </p><p>He had brought tea sandwiches and little cookies along with a pot of tea.</p><p>The two of you spent time discussing your current read, eating your lunch and snacks, and dipping your toes in the water together. </p><p>Along with Mark, Ethan was another close figure to you in the manor. He was always there for you. Yes, it was his job to do so. But he was also a friend. When he is not doing his job, on little breaks like this and simply being a friend, he was a goofball. He always made you laugh, cracking jokes to makes you smile, then would offer to make you more tea.</p><p>Ethan eventually had to go back to being a butler, so he said his farewell to let you finish your book and enjoy the sun.</p><p>Upon getting sucked back into your book, it began to grow hot as the afternoon heightened. So you decided to go for a swim. You left your lace cover up and book on your chair to go cool off. The water was warm, but had that little shock of temperature difference once you first enter the pool.</p><p>It felt so nice to take a dip. Swimming, reading, and spending your lunch with Ethan made for a great first half of the day. You swam some laps, allowing your eyes a break from straining them against the tiny words of your book. </p><p>You took a deep breath and plunged underneath the water. Letting the coolness of it run over your entire body, you dove down to the bottom of the deep end. It was like time was standing still.</p><p>Once you came back up to the surface, rubbing the water away from your eyes, you saw someone siting in your chair.</p><p>“Enjoying the heat?”</p><p>Mark suddenly appearing there caught you off guard. He had ditched his blazer, and was left in a white dress shirt. The top two buttons were undone, a sign of him being tired from work you assumed. But it had your mind wander for a split second. But could he have gotten out here from inside during the dive you took?</p><p>‘How long had I been underwater?’ You joked in your head. </p><p>“Yeah,” You swam up to the edge of the pool, folding your arms over the side. “Needed a break from work?”</p><p>Mark picked up his rose he gave you, that was resting with your stuff, and twirled it between his fingers by the short stem. “Yeah, getting a little stressful. I needed some air.”</p><p>“That’s fair. Hey, could you pass me my towel please?”</p><p>He got up and handed you your towel. He stuck out his hand towards you, an offer to help you out of the pool. You took his hand and pulled yourself out. After you were out, he still had his hand in yours. He was grasping you a little tightly. Then you followed his line of sight, to the inside of your wrist. The ink that was on there.</p><p>He saw you catch him. He let go immediately. Mark mumbled an apology, eyes darting up to yours, then traveling down, then away from you. It looked like he found the trees very interesting all of the sudden. </p><p>You covered yourself up with the towel.</p><p>“Do you still have work to do today?” You asked him, to break the tension in the air. </p><p>“Yes, sadly.” Mark looked at you once again. “But as I said, I’ll be done for dinner.”</p><p>“That’s good,” You replied.</p><p>Mark had this tint of colour on his cheeks. And he suddenly did not know what to do with his hands. “Actually, that reminds me. I should probably get back to work.”</p><p>“You just got out here.”</p><p>“I-I also should go see Chef. See what he has for us tonight. Make sure everything is good.”</p><p>“Oh, okay. I’ll see you later then.”</p><p>“Yes, I’ll let you get back to your book. See you at dinner.” </p><p>And with that he turned on his heel to leave. He seemed flustered, or was that agitation? You were not sure, but the heat on his face made you curious. </p><p>After he was gone, you glanced down at the inside of your wrist. The spot that his eyes had focused on when he pulled you out of the pool.</p><p>000:00:00:00 </p><p>~~~</p><p>Mark went back to his study, the image of you burned into the back of his thoughts. You looked pretty, he admitted, in your bathing suit. More than just pretty, he countered. Just lounging by the poolside, reading a book, swimming around, having lunch with Ethan. He had peered out his study window throughout the afternoon, and he was thankful it had a view of the pool.</p><p>The image of you coming out of the water was in his head as well, he tried not to think about it too much.</p><p>But then the image of the tattoo on your wrist intruded that thought. The four sets of zeros. It boiled his blood. It made his vision crack, shifting him to begin to see greys, and leaking into reds and blues. The feeling bubbled inside him and threatened to surface. But Mark pushed it deep down, doing his best to ignore it. Let it settle. </p><p>Everything was under his control, he had nothing to worry about. </p><p>Mark locked the heavy doors of his study. He sat at his desk, eyes fixing on his monitor and what was across his screen, diving back into his duty.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Checkmate</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mark finds you in your painting studio, watching you paint with wonder. The two of you have dinner together. He then challenges you to a game of chess.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for the positive responses to the first chapter, hope you enjoy chapter 2</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Don't feel bad for one moment about doing what brings you joy.”<br/>― Sarah J. Maas, A Court of Thorns and Roses<br/>~~~</p><p>You had opened all the windows in your painting studio so everything sparkled where the afternoon sunlight spilled. The canvases that line the walls gave the place character and life. The room was alive and welcoming, a space that Mark had given you and that you had added so much colour to. </p><p>Perched on a stool in the middle of the room, you were hard at work. A book lay open on your lap that was opened to a page of chickadees, and your eyes darted between the birds on the page to the one on the wet canvas. You were using the last of your black and white paints for this one, squeezing the tubes dry and salvaging what was left. But there was enough to finish your bird, the one you had spent all afternoon working on with care. </p><p>With delicate brush strokes, you blended the paint to make the feathers look nice and fluffy on the chubby body of the bird. You were growing satisfied with how it was looking. You were surprised you were able to capture the cuteness of it. You were excited to show Mark, he was the one who gave you the idea yesterday. It looked just like the ones you had seen outside.</p><p>Painting was something you often found yourself doing in the manor. You just loved to get lost in the moments of paint smeared on your hands and your pallet being filled with colours. And when Mark first let you set up a studio, you were overjoyed. Every canvas, every sketchbook page, every piece of wood, the little things you had painted were here along with your supplies. A safe space for you to be creative.</p><p>The weather today had been just as nice as the day before. The sun was just as bright as when you and Mark sat outside to have breakfast and when you relaxed out by the pool. It made you want to paint outside, but the feeling of being in your studio called louder. So you drew all the curtains and opened all the windows and spent your afternoon in here. The perfect setting to just let loose.</p><p>While you were lost in the painting, tongue stuck out in concentration and you flicked more feathers on, there was a knock on the door just as the day was transitioning from afternoon to evening.</p><p>“Come in,” You replied without even looking up from your pallet where you were mixing greys.</p><p>You expected Ethan to be the one to enter. Maybe with a tray of tea again, or to bring you a snack. Or just to coax you to come out of your studio, relax your eyes, get some exercise.</p><p>But it was Mark who opened the door. The recognizable figure in the corner of your eye made you look up at him.</p><p>In a blazer, as always, he entered with a shy smile on his face.</p><p>“Hi. Um, so I had some time to run out today. I got you more paint.” He had a paper bag in his hands that he offered out to you. “You said you were out of black and white again.”</p><p>You put down your brush and your pallet, standing up, “Thank you, Mark.” You walked towards him and you both met in the middle. He gave you the bag. Your hands brushed at the handoff. Inside were tubes of white and black, enough to last you a while.</p><p>“What are you working on?” Mark passed you and walked up to your easel. You watched the smile grow on his face upon seeing your painting.</p><p>“You inspired me yesterday,” You moved to stand beside him. “It’s not entirely finished yet though.”</p><p>Mark studied the bird with a caring look, “Amazing, as always.”</p><p>Retaking your place on your stool, you picked your brush back up. “Thank you. I’m just going to add some things before this grey dries.” Dipping your brush into the paint, you added a few details to your bird. </p><p>But you were aware that he was watching you, standing right behind you and watching your every move. It was not too much of an uncomfortable feeling, you felt good in his presence. You just hoped your brush did not slip while he was watching.</p><p>Mark watched you paint with interest. Whenever he saw you with rolled-up sleeves, a brush or pencil in hand, eyes focused on creation, he was transfixed in fascination. Every time he saw you like this he saw how happy it made you, how much joy it brought you.</p><p>And it brought him a little joy too.</p><p>He was more than happy to provide you with a space and supplies, keep providing you this joy. It was never a bother if you asked for more paint or more paper. He happily gave you whatever you needed, any request granted quickly.</p><p>It kept you busy too, which was a bonus.</p><p>While he watched you paint, his eyes found themselves wandering around the room. There were shelves of art books and photo books for image references. A nearby table held sketchbooks and supplies. Drying oil paintings, a pallet of watercolours waiting to be rehydrated, a vase of roses from the garden, an empty teapot and matching cup. There were canvases all over the walls, some hung and some leaning in piles.</p><p>Trends of common images were among your works on the walls, and Mark was sure that if he were to open your sketchbooks that he would see them there too:</p><p>The domination of black and white paintings. Countless spirals. Hourglasses. Skulls.</p><p>He knew why. Stuck in your subconscious, wanting to come out in some way. </p><p>It made him want to scream. Make the images fly off the walls. Tear the canvas from their wooden frames. Turn the hypnotic seas of black and white into ripped shreds that scatter the floor. Make the remnants of your subconscious memories disappear into nothing, rid them out of his place.</p><p>He blinked the thought away. He would never do that.</p><p>They were beautiful paintings nonetheless. The hobby that lit up your face, made your eyes light up with wonder. So he would not touch them. They made you happy, he wanted to keep it that way. He ignored the nagging that was deep inside his brain. </p><p>He would never lay a harmful finger on your paintings, he told himself.</p><p>“You’re very talented, (Y/N),” Mark said, and he meant it.</p><p>“I’ve had the practice.” </p><p>“Of course, you’re always painting or reading.” Mark chuckled deeply. </p><p>You looked over your shoulder and up at him, smirking knowingly “You’re not wrong.”</p><p>Mark let out another laugh, one with a new and different tone. </p><p>You thought it was from your comment, but then he pointed to your cheek. “You got a little paint...right there.” </p><p>Before you could quickly reach up with the back of your hand, he did. Mark reached out and wiped a smear of grey paint off your cheek with his thumb. His fingers lingered for a second longer than needed, brushing down your jawline. </p><p>You froze at the contact and the way he was smiling at you like it was so normal. He held eye contact with you, a softness in his eyes. A heat rose to your face.</p><p>“Well um, I just came to check on you. Dinner is in a couple of hours. I have a little bit of work left for the day.” He folded his hands behind him and made his way to the door, “I’ll let you get back to your painting. Don’t let me distract you.”</p><p>You stuttered, still lost in how his hand and his eyes had lingered. “Alright. I’ll see you soon.” </p><p>You wanted him to stay.</p><p>But he gave you another smile before leaving and closing the door behind him. </p><p>Why does he have to have such a pretty smile? You thought, feeling the slightest bit of weakness in your limbs.</p><p>~~~</p><p>Ethan had come up to tell you that dinner would be served soon. So you changed out of your paint-stained comfy clothes and put on something nicer before making your way to the dining room. After slipping on a casual dress and scrubbing the dried paint off your hands, you made your way downstairs. </p><p>Upon entering, you found that Mark was already sitting in his chair at the head of the table. Ethan was opening a bottle of wine, semi struggling with the cork. The two of them broke into a little bubble of laughter.</p><p>Mark looked up at you with bright eyes, “Ah, there you are. I was just telling Ethan that we might have had to send a search party for you.”</p><p>Ethan chimed in just as he was successful with opening the bottle, “And I said that the search would not last long. You were cooped up in your studio all day, lost in your painting.”</p><p>You smiled at that.</p><p>You sat down in the spot you always sat. Right beside Mark on his left at the long table. The place settings were already laid out with precision and Ethan began to pour the deep red liquid into your wine glass, then Mark’s.</p><p>“Dinner will be out shortly.” And with that, Ethan walked through the door that connected the dining room and the kitchen. You could hear Chef call his name as the door swung closed.</p><p>“How is your new painting coming?” Mark asked, taking a sip of his wine while looking at you over the top of his glass the whole time.</p><p>“It’s done now. Thanks for the idea.”</p><p>“You’re going to have to show me the finished product later. I love your paintings.” Mark fiddled with his napkin before placing it on his lap.</p><p>“Absolutely.” You did the same with your napkin before trying the wine for yourself.</p><p>The door to the kitchen burst open and you were greeted by the smile of Chef, who was carrying the main course with two hands. Ethan followed closely behind balancing the side dishes on his arms like a rushed waiter. </p><p>“Dinner is served!” </p><p>Chef was a true character. He always seemed to have so much energy all the time. He was an amazing cook and always experimented with new things, making you excited to see what he had up his sleeve for the day. He was funny but seemed like he could beat up anyone who came between him and his kitchen. If someone made a mess in there, they were sure to be taught a lesson. </p><p>He had this look in his eyes that was sometimes unsettling, but you knew that if you did not get in his way then you would be fine.</p><p>The food was set in front of you, Chef and Mark sparking up a conversation while Ethan struggled with the multiple dishes he had to carry on his own. While Chef was describing what he decided to make today, Ethan stuck a match and began to light a few candles on the table. </p><p>Mark insisted that the two of you could serve yourselves from now on and shooed his butler and chef away to go have their own dinner. You thanked both of them, and they disappeared into the kitchen. </p><p>Everything looked delicious, as always, and you picked out what you wanted. Mark did as well, in small portions. At dinner, Mark talked more than he ate.</p><p>But you loved it when he talked. </p><p>In no time, Mark had been going on about something that popped into his mind. And you ate while he began to tell you a story. One about a heist. Two people on a mission to retrieve a special mysterious box. And he went on about how he has heard multiple versions of this story from different people. One about how the main characters end up in prison. One where they run into zombies. One where they end up stranded on an island. In all the versions, something different was inside the box, Mark going on a tangent on what most likely would have been in the box for each outcome.</p><p>You found yourself leaning in towards him while he talked, listening intensively the entire time. You loved the story, as you did all the stories that he told over dinner. And you loved how he talked, so in tune and so dedicated. That gorgeous smile never leaving his face. When he struggled to keep in his laughter while speaking sometimes. The low tone of his voice making it all so enticing and beautiful. The glint of joy in his eyes that sparkled so brightly. </p><p>It made yourself realize that there was something that made your heart quicken whenever you saw his face, heard his voice. </p><p>~~~</p><p>The battleground was laid out. Fallen soldiers everywhere. Threats coming from the left and right. A tough fight was underway. Both your eyes and Mark’s eyes were dashing between each other and the board between you, burning with concentration and hidden thoughts. </p><p>And he had a damn good poker face.</p><p>After dinner, you and Mark found yourselves in one of the drawing rooms, deep in the heart of a chess match. It was now after dusk and dark outside. The fireplace was lit and roaring behind you, bringing the energy of comfort to the room. A nice quiet evening, even though you were struggling internally.</p><p>You tried to keep the neutral expression while you plan your next turn. Inside you felt the build-up of stress and it felt like your brain was doing gymnastics. You struggled to find a flaw in his current position, his black pieces on the board tangled with your white in a dance of the unknown.</p><p>Mark was good. Too good. But you were doing your best to keep up, catch his traps and taking his pieces as best you could when he slipped up.</p><p>But the smirk that was currently threatening to tug up at the corners of his lips told you that you were in trouble. Something was happening that you could not see. You did not like it, the pressure was building as you tried to plan what to do. </p><p>“Take your time.” He said into the quiet and the fireplace crackled in the background.</p><p>He was egging you on.</p><p>You shot him a look. He sent you one right back, the smirk fully appeared on his lips. The stinging frustration in you wanted to slap it off his face. </p><p>You had to be careful even though you had no idea what to do.</p><p>It did not help that the looming feeling of him watching you think was making you feel certain things. You became self-conscious of everything your body is doing. How your hand hovered over your pieces. How one of your legs were crossed over the other and how you rested your chin in your other hand. How you were humming in thought on occasion. </p><p>His gaze was just that powerful, but you tried to push it down so you could make a move against him.</p><p>Making your final decision for the move, you moved your last white bishop across the board.</p><p>He then delicately captured it with his black queen.</p><p>“Checkmate.”</p><p>Wait, what?</p><p>Sure enough, he had your king trapped with his queen as well as with a rook that you completely forgot about. It all went over your head, and just like that it was over. </p><p>“Dammit.” You leaned back and slouched in your seat, running a hand through your hair. </p><p>Mark let out a friendly laugh of satisfaction. It rippled through the air and sounded like music.</p><p>“Good game,” He then said, “you did really well.”</p><p>You shrugged, “I did my best. Can’t believe I fell for that, though.”</p><p>“It was a tight game, I don’t blame you.” </p><p>“Takes a lot of thinking. Feels like a real battlefield with how complex it can get. And the tension.”</p><p>“Luckily, you’re beyond smart enough for it.” Mark shrugged, “But you’re gonna have to try a little harder if you’re going to beat me.”</p><p>You chuckled. You stood up from your chair, “I’m gonna go to the washroom. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>“I’ll be here.” He smiled that beautiful smile up at you.</p><p>“When I’m back, I demand a rematch.”</p><p>“Alright then. I’ll send Ethan up for some drinks, we could be here all night.”</p><p>“Sounds good, Mark.”</p><p>He watched you leave. As soon as the door swung closed, he waited a second.</p><p>Dark snapped his fingers and the chess pieces began to rearrange themselves. Each piece floated back to their starting positions. He watched them dance around each other before all the black was once again on his side and the white on the opposite. </p><p>Then he began to play around, focusing his hand on making the white queen rise up off the board. Alongside it, he pulled up the black king. They floated where he made them float, let them dance above the board.</p><p>In a flicker of red and blue glitches in his vision, the king and queen turned into black and white bishop pieces. Dark’s annoyance made him clench his fist quickly and tightly, making those pieces shatter like glass. The shards that rained onto the board disappeared with a wave of his hand. </p><p>He conjured up a new king and a new queen so you both could continue playing once you came back, and gently set them in their proper squares. </p><p>Wandering thoughts have been making Dark feel uneasy lately. Like something was out of place in the manor. He did not know why or where those thoughts were coming from. Invading seconds of his day from time to time.</p><p>But it kept reminding him that they are still out there. That they might try to do something.</p><p>But everything went so well, he had played his pieces just right. He made sure every move had its purpose. And here he was, successful. He had already won his prize. Nothing to worry about. </p><p>The game was over, and he had won.</p>
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